Butch Carson and the Sundance Housekeeper
by chelsie fan
Summary: Yee-haw, Cowgals and Cowboys! Downton goes Western! This fic has it all - a mysterious murder, a snarky old lady mayor, a crooked deputy sheriff, and good-old fashioned vigilante justice! Saddle up and hang on tight, 'cause it's gonna be a wild ride!
1. Chapter 1

**BUTCH CARSON & THE SUNDANCE HOUSEKEEPER**

**BY CHELSIE FAN. JR., JR.**

_**M/N: (That stands for Mother's Note.) This story was not written by me, chelsie fan. It was written by my middle daughter (whose name is NOT Edith). On the simultaneous occasions of her eighth grade graduation, fourteenth birthday, fanfiction debut, and "coming out," I give you … chelsie fan, jr., jr.**_

**A/N: Howdy, cowgirls! (And cowboys, if there are any of you out there… I doubt it!) Chelsie fan, jr., jr., here. You can call me cfjj. This is the first installment of my Western… AU- as I'm told it's called. This was really just a silly little idea I had, but somehow my mom persuaded me to actually write it. So, here it is! Some of the events from the actual show will take place, and my story involves all the same characters, but the similarities end there. One big difference is that in my story, Sybil is still alive. (Matthew, however, was not so fortunate.) The story takes place in the Western USA in the 1920s. Hope you enjoy, and please, let me know what you think! Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated!**

**Chapter 1: Grantham Ranch**

The young, dappled colt looked at him with frightened eyes. Thomas spoke in hushed tones, "Come on, Yorkshire, you've gotta come back with us!" Thomas had been trying, in vain, to get the colt back to Grantham Ranch for hours. By now, the ranch foreman, Mr. Carson, as well as two other ranch hands, had come along to help with the stubborn animal. "Thomas, Jimmy, Alfred, let's go! It's almost time for the dinner bell!" Mr. Carson huffed. Jimmy and Alfred finally got their lassos around Yorkshire, and the foursome began the short ride back to the stables.

As soon as Yorkshire was back inside the fences, the ranch hands went back to work. Mr. Carson hurried to the main barnyard and sounded the dinner bell. Things were always done right at Grantham Ranch, and a stubborn colt wasn't going to change that. The ranch was founded in the 1800s, and ownership had been handed down for generations to the current owner, Lord Grantham, whom everyone knew as Robert Crawley. The ranch was especially prosperous during this time, as Mr. Crawley was exceptionally wealthy and had married into the rich American family of his wife, Cora Levinson. In addition, the ranch was run by its uptight foreman, Mr. Charles Carson, in partnership with housekeeper and supervisor, Mrs. Elsie Hughes.

The ranch was nestled in the small, sleepy town of Grantham City, Nevada. The outspoken mayor of the town, Violet Crawley, happened to be Robert's mother. Downton Ranch had a reputation of being one of the best-kept ranches in the Wild West. It wasn't until April of 1922 that this all changed.

Inside the main house at the ranch, dinner was well underway. But this wasn't just any dinner. The esteemed mayor of Grantham City, the Dowager Mayor, as she was called, had come for a visit. Mr. Carson himself was in the great dining room, supervising the staff, even though that was beyond his normal duties. "So…" began the Mayor, and all noise in the room hushed, "I believe I've been seeing that dreadful Sherriff Gillingham around much more often lately. Is that so, Mary?" All eyes turned toward Robert's eldest daughter.

"Oh please, Grandmama, he's hardly a worthy suitor," Mary replied.

"I think he's quite nice!" Edith, the middle daughter, interjected.

"Oh stop it, Edith. Ever since your editor friend disappeared, you've been trying to edge your way back into my life and I don't appreciate it," Mary snapped. Edith shrank back.

The mayor spoke up. "Please, Mary…It's not as if that Sheriff of yours is any Rudolph Valentino."

Robert spoke up from the end of the table in a valiant attempt to change the subject. "This stew is delicious, Carson! Wherever did we get it?"

The foreman replied, "Yes, we just found a new cook last week. She runs a food wagon just south of here; I believe it's called Chuck Wagon Patmore. Mrs. Hughes found it; she has quite the knack for spotting these things!"

"Ah, well, pass on our compliments!" said Robert.

"Certainly, m'lord," affirmed the foreman.

The rest of dinner crawled by rather slowly, with the family making small talk. Finally, Cora suggested, "Shall we go through?" The rest of the family nodded in agreement and stood up. The servants began to clear the table.

Meanwhile, in the yard, the ranch hands and maids gathered to exchange gossip while Mr. Carson was preoccupied with post-dinner events.

"Have you met the Dowager Mayor's new maid?" exclaimed Ivy. "She's so strange!"

"I hear she's from Gallifrey!" added Jimmy. "They do things much differently there."

"They must, and very differently too, I would think, with the way she does her hair!" Thomas snipped, making the maids giggle.

Alfred defended her, saying, "She seemed pleasant enough when I saw her in the saloon."

"They all do at first…" Thomas replied.

"All right, back to work, the lot of you!" cried a warm, yet commanding voice. Mrs. Hughes, the ranch's housekeeper and supervisor, shooed the young servants away. They scattered almost instantly. Mrs. Hughes walked into the barn, where the maid, Anna, was watching Mr. Bates nail in horseshoes.

"Hello there, Mrs. Hughes!" Anna greeted cheerily, "How did dinner with the mayor go?"

"Quite well, Anna, quite well. We almost made it through the meal without a remark," said the housekeeper dryly.

"That's great news! Well, we'll see you later!" Mr. Bates said as Mrs. Hughes moved on toward the hayloft. She had just made her way up the ladder and into the loft when a voice behind her made her jump.

"Hello there, Mrs. Hughes! I didn't expect to see you up here. Forgive me, but I didn't see you as a risk-taking kind of woman!"

"Oh, it's you, Mr. Carson! Actually, you'd be surprised. I quite like it up here, it helps me to clear my mind," said Mrs. Hughes.

She cleared her throat, "Erm…what are _you_ doing up here, if you don't mind my asking?"

The foreman replied, "No, not at all, Mrs. Hughes, I'm just checking to make sure everything is in order. You know I'm a careful man."

"I do, all too well," she said.

Mr. Carson noticed with a fair bit of pleasure that Mr. Bates and Anna had moved on, leaving the two alone in the barn.

"It is nice up here, isn't it?" he said.

"Yes, it is," she said quietly, "even with the fowl smell from the henhouse." (See what I did there?) The two stood in a comfortable silence for a bit longer until they decided to head back to the house.

**A/N: Well, how'd you like it? Too long, too short? Should I even keep writing? It is my first time, so forgive anything I might have gotten wrong. Please drop a review and let me know how I'm doing. Sorry for the terrible pun in there; I just had to. And for those of you who got the Doctor Who reference, good for you. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello, again! First of all, I would like to thank you all so much for your kind reviews on the first chapter. They made me smile. One note before the chapter, my mom will be chipping in and writing all the really sappy Chelsie moments in order to please you guys. Any kissing is NOT mine! Thanks, and enjoy the chapter!**

**Chapter 2: The Sheriff**

The next day, Anna woke early and began her daily routine. She jumped out of bed in the cottage that Mr. Crawley had graciously provided the Bateses after their wedding. She gathered her things, ruffled Mr. Bates's hair, and headed out to the ranch. As she was walking down Ripon Avenue, the main street in Grantham City, she heard loud voices coming from the saloon.

"Oh, rrrrreally, Mr. Green? I believe we have business to attend to! As muuuuussshhh as I would loooove to shtay here w-with these loooovely ladies, duty calls!" This was followed by bursts of laughter. Anna recognized the voice. It belonged to Sheriff Tony Gillingham, the local keeper of justice, who was assisted by the equally incapable Deputy Green.

Just then, the two men burst out of the saloon's double doors and stumbled into the daylight. Obviously very drunk, they headed toward their horses, kicking up dust in their wake. Anna was praying that they wouldn't notice her hurrying out of the square. She was already late, and she did _not _want to deal with these men this morning, especially since they were drunk. However, it seemed luck was not on her side, as Deputy Green spotted her and began stumbling across the town square.

"Why, helloooo there! Anna, is it? Headed off to the big house, are we?" drawled Green.

"Yes, and I've got to be off, really," Anna said.

"Oh, nonsense! Shhhurely you've got time for a drrrrink with us?" Green slurred, raising his eyebrows.

"No, no, I really must be going!" Anna replied hesitantly, and hurried off to the ranch.

Meanwhile, inside the main office at the Town Hall, the Dowager Mayor observed the scene in the square. "Mr. Molesley!" she called to her assistant. "Keep your eye on these two! I don't trust that Sheriff Gillingham; in fact, I don't trust anyone who follows Mary around as eagerly as he does."

"Yes, ma'am," replied Molesley. He began to back out the door, but the mayor's voice stopped him.

"Oh! And Molesley, have you found a new job yet? I have been gracious enough to take you on at your father's pleading, but I'm afraid you don't quite fit the qualifications."

Molesley looked at his shoes. "Yes, ma'am. I've been looking into other posts. You really have been most generous, ma'am. You've been a kind employer," he stammered.

The mayor looked surprised. "Oh? Pity! I must have been doing it wrong!"

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the ranch hands were busy at work. That is to say, Alfred and Jimmy were busy roping in the new calves, and Thomas was sitting watching them.

"Come on, Alfred, you can do better than that! Look at Jimmy!" teased Thomas. Jimmy was lassoing calf after calf like a professional. Alfred was… well, Alfred was trying.

"Whoa, boys, what is this I see?" Jimmy said, pointing incredulously. Thomas and Alfred followed his finger and saw what he was pointing at with wide eyes. It was Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson each on their own horse, riding relatively close to each other. It looked like they were surveying land plots.

"Her Ladyship is very excited about the upcoming rodeo," said Mrs. Hughes as she rode alongside Mr. Carson.

"Yes, and I daresay it will be a lot of work for you, Mrs. Hughes. But you always manage to pull it off with elegance and style," Mr. Carson flattered her.

"Oh, come now, Mr. Carson. The success is always because of your efforts as much as mine." She tried to turn his compliment back on him.

"Right, then," he agreed. "We'll share the credit. We're both very good at what we do, if I do say so myself."

Mrs. Hughes changed the subject. "Mr. Carson, do you ever wish you'd gone another way? Owned a saloon or general store? Been a bounty hunter or train robber?"

"Do you?" Mr. Carson avoided answering her.

"I don't know. Sometimes. Maybe," answered Mrs. Hughes.

Inside the house, Mr. and Mrs. Crawley were lounging in the sitting room. Robert was reading the latest paper, and Cora was planning an upcoming rodeo.

"Robert, should we invite that nice Mr. Napier to the rodeo? He seemed rather taken with Mary, but do you think it's too soon?" Cora asked her husband. Robert looked up from his newspaper.

"Whatever you think is best, dear," he said. Mary's late husband Matthew had been killed in a wild mustang stampede six months ago. Mary was still very heartbroken.

"I'll invite him," Cora said, "I want it to be grand affair, so I'll invite as many people as I can!"

**A/N: Well, there it is. Chapter 2. Please leave a review and tell me how you liked it. I'm really excited for the upcoming rodeo scene; that's where all the drama is going to happen! (The future may hold a shootout/gunfight involving a certain Mr. Bates.) Also, I've had an idea to have Chelsie get themselves into a bull riding competition! Tell me what you guys think!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Once again, thank you all so much for the reviews you left on the past two chapters. They have been immensely helpful. I'm trying to update as fast as I can, but I didn't realize what hard work writing is until now. Enjoy the chapter!**

**Chapter 3: The Housekeeper's Plan**

"Have you heard the news?" Jimmy asked Alfred the next day in the stables. "There's a hanging taking place in the town square gallows today!"

Alfred gasped. "A hanging? We haven't seen one of those in months! Who's gotten on the old bird's nerves this time?" he asked.

Jimmy said, "His name's Pegg, poor chap. Seems he's stolen something from ol' Violet."

"And that warrants a hanging?" Alfred asked.

"Apparently." Jimmy said, "The family's all going to watch. They said we were welcome to go with them."

"Are you going to go?"

"Yes. It sounds more exciting than roping calves all day."

"Well, I'm not going. It's terrible that he's being hanged in the first place, let alone with all those people watching him like it's a sport."

"Suit yourself, Alfred."

Tom Branson knew he was in for trouble when he married into this family, but he didn't know that that 'trouble' would include rolling around in the mud with a couple of pigs. He had been checking the fences around the pig sty to make sure they were all up to regulation, when a sudden gust of wind blew tumbleweed towards him and pushed him over the fence and into the mud. _What have I signed up for? _he thought as he wiped pig slop off of his face. As he headed back into the house to change, he ran into a very flustered-looking Cora.

"Oh, Tom, thank goodness! I need your help!" Cora said.

"Of course. W-what do you need, m'lady?" Tom replied quickly.

"Well, you know the rodeo that we're having in a few weeks? The flowers that we'd ordered have been abruptly cancelled, and now we need to order new ones quickly so they'll come in time for the rodeo."

Tom had an idea. "Well, why don't you just ask the Dowager Mayor to borrow some of hers? I've seen her gardens; they're very well kept, and the flowers there are absolutely lovely."

"Oh, yes, Tom, you're a life saver! Why don't you go into town and ask her immediately? Thank you, thank you! I'm indebted to you!"

Tom was taken aback. "W-well, what? Er-" he stammered, "I wasn't exactly… volunteering to go.." but Cora was already gone. _Well, I suppose you've only yourself to blame for that one, Tom, _he soliloquized. With that, he turned on his heel and began to walk to the town hall.

Tom approached the heavy wooden door to the Dowager Mayor's home, the largest house in town. He took a deep breath and rapped with the heavy knocker. Almost immediately, Mr. Molesley opened the door.

"Oh, hello, Mr. Branson. We weren't expecting you! Come in, come in… Would you care for a drink?" Molesley asked.

"No, thank you, Mr. Molesley, I just need to see the Mayor for a quick moment. Is she available?"

"Yes, of course. I'll go fetch her for you. If you'll follow me, sir," and Mr. Molesley hurried off down the hall. Tom followed him into a posh sitting room, all four walls of which were lined with bookcases. He sat down in a plush armchair as Mr. Molesley rushed off to find the mayor. Tom stood and looked at a portrait that was hanging above an ornately carved desk. The painting depicted what looked like younger Violet with a very young, very unhappy Robert Crawley.

"He wasn't a very pleasant child, was he?" came the Dowager's voice from behind him.

"N-no, Your Honor, er- that is, uh, no, he wasn't," Tom stammered.

"Well then, what is it you've come for? I've not the time to spend on idle chatter," the Mayor snipped.

"Cora-er, that is, _Mrs. Crawley_ was worried because it seems that the shipments of flowers that she had ordered for the rodeo have been lost. She was wondering if she could borrow some of yours." Tom asked.

"That's funny. I always thought the word 'borrowed' implied that you had some intention of returning the item in question," the Mayor pointed out.

"Rather then, if she could, er- _have_, some of your beautiful flowers."

"Don't try it, Branson. Flattery will get you nowhere with me. But I suppose you may have the flowers. Just this once," she warned.

"Thank you, th-thank you, Your Honor. Cora – I mean, _Lady Grantham_ will be very appreciative."

Mrs. Hughes was out running errands in the town, in the heat of the afternoon. She was just heading into the general store when a sign tacked on the message board caught her eye. It showed a picture of a young man, maybe in his early twenties, and the caption under it read: JOHN PEGG. ARRESTED FOR CRIMES AGAINST THE MAYOR, TO BE HANGED IN THE TOWN SQUARE, 2:00 P.M TODAY.

Mrs. Hughes had seen the young man several times before, gardening outside of the mayor's house. He had always seemed a perfect gentleman to her: he would ask if she needed any help, or how her day was going… Mrs. Hughes knew that this wasn't right. She was tired of the whole town being pushed around by the Dowager Mayor. _Sooner or later, _she thought, _somebody is going to have to do something about it. _

Mrs. Hughes ripped the sign off the board and marched into the store with a new sense of purpose. She gathered some items and put them on the counter. Mrs. Isobel Crawley, the store owner, started ringing them up for her.

"These are curious items, Mrs. Hughes. Why does a housekeeper need ammunition for a .45 caliber pistol?" she commented.

Color began to rise to the housekeeper's cheeks as she tried to cover up for her strange purchases. "Oh, never you mind, Mrs. Crawley…I'm on a run for Mr. Carson today, he asked me to purchase these for him. Sometimes, the bulls get out of hand, and there's nothing the ranch hands can do to calm them down. If the men are attacked, they're forced to shoot the poor beasts in self-defense."

"That's tragic. Poor animals. But I suppose there really is nothing else you can do," Isobel said.

"Yes, it's very unfortunate. Well, I'd best be off; I've got work to do back at the house. Thank you, Mrs. Crawley." Mrs. Hughes said, and hurried off out of the store to get ready for what she was about to do.

**A/N: Ooh, what's she planning, I wonder? Tell me what you think, please. Thanks!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks, once again, for all of your kind reviews on the past chapters. Just a reminder, I mentioned at the beginning of Chapter 1 that Sybil is still alive in this story. This chapter finally gets exciting; hope you like it!**

**Chapter 4: A Mystery Bullet**

Early the next morning, Mr. Carson locked his cabin door and headed out. He had seen something yesterday that had bothered him, and today he knew what he had to do to fix it. He hopped on his horse, Alice, and rode into town in the direction of the general store. As soon as he got there, he passed the store and headed towards the back yard. There, he took the cream-colored envelope containing the letter he had written yesterday and dropped it into the post box of Mrs. Isobel Crawley. He spurred on Alice and rode back to the house, where he climbed back into bed without anyone noticing he had ever left.

oOo

"No, the red one, I think," said Mary. She was deciding what dress to wear to the hanging. Sybil was sitting on her bed, and Edith was in her armchair, helping Mary decide. Well, not really helping.

"Mary, it's terrible that you think of something as trivial as what to wear when a man's life is going to end today!" Sybil said. "Honestly, I think Grandmama goes too far sometimes!"

"We all know that she has a temper. It's a lucky thing that we're in her good graces," Edith pointed out from the chair.

"I'm serious, Edith! Since when does stealing a penknife warrant a man's death?" Sybil questioned angrily.

Mary cut in. "Sybil, she's the Mayor, and you'd do well not to question her authority."

Sybil was about to reply when Cora's voice could be heard from downstairs. "Girls! Come on, we can't afford to be late!" The girls rushed down the stairs and got into the wagon that was waiting for them outside to take them into town.

oOo

Mrs. Hughes walked away from the square where the hanging was being held. She walked a couple streets down until she found the alley she was looking for behind the Grantham Arms Hotel. She walked briskly down the alley, checking occasionally to make sure that nobody was following her. She had to be very careful with what she was about to do. Being always observant, Mrs. Hughes knew that there were ladders leading up to the rooftops of each building in town, and she was grateful for one of those ladders in particular right now. Checking once more to make sure no one was around, Mrs. Hughes climbed up the ladder to the roof of the hotel. Just as she suspected, from here she had a perfect view of everything that was happening in the town square below. She took out her .45 gauge pistol and readied herself.

As soon as Mr. Carson saw Mrs. Hughes leave the square, he knew it was time to move. He watched carefully where she was headed, and when he saw her begin to climb to the roof of the Grantham Arms, he started to walk on the other side of the road. He walked down the avenue until he was exactly opposite the hotel and Mrs. Hughes. The barber shop happened to be directly across the street from the Grantham Arms, but it was a bit shorter. _Perfect, _Mr. Carson thought, _just what I need. _He turned down the alley behind the barber shop and climbed the ladder up to its roof. Luckily, Mrs. Hughes hadn't noticed him yet.

oOo

"…And for numerous crimes against the Dowager Mayor, John Pegg is hereby sentenced to be hanged by the neck until dead. I shall now ask the prisoner for any last remarks?" finished Sheriff Gillingham. The terrified young man shook his head. "Very well," Gillingham said, "let's begin."

Deputy Green tied a noose, and then fastened it to the gallows. Then, he roughly pushed Pegg onto the boards and put the noose around his neck. Green walked over to the lever that would let the floor down.

Sybil clutched Branson's hand and turned away. She couldn't bear to watch this innocent young man's life being taken away from him. She shuddered when she heard Green pull the lever, and Branson sucked in a breath and put an arm around her. But then, something completely unexpected happened. A gunshot rang out across the square, and all the spectators ducked and covered their ears. The gunman must have been a crack shot, because the rope that was holding Pegg was split in two by the bullet. The young man, too terrified even to speak, got up and ran.

"After him!" the Mayor screamed from her place of honor. "Actually, wait! Let him go! Find that shooter! Search everyone for guns, look on every rooftop! Let no one leave the square!" The square was in uproar. Sheriff Gillingham and Deputy Green began to search everyone for weapons, and they sent more men up to the buildings to search for the shooter.

"Look for a bullet, people! It could be anywhere!" said Green. But no bullet was found. Nobody was found to be carrying any weapons, and a couple hours later, the Mayor allowed everyone to leave. Furious and outraged, the Dowager called a meeting of the Gillingham and Green to discuss this mystery shot.

oOo

Once the whole family and the staff had gotten back to the ranch, everyone was very tired. The younger staff was buzzing with news of the hanging. Those who had not attended were quickly being filled in. Mr. Crawley called an assembly of the entire household in the great hall. He quieted the excited murmur and began to speak.

"Now, I know that this afternoon has been very… exciting, to say the least. But I want to say that it is not our responsibility to inspire talk about what may have happened. Leave the figuring to the Mayor and the authorities. Please, I would like to hear no further talk on the matter. Carry on with your duties as you normally would. That will be all. Thank you," said Robert calmly.

The staff began to file out the doors to attend to their regular duties. However, Mr. Carson motioned to Mrs. Hughes to follow him. They had some things they needed to discuss.

**A/N: Well, there's going be a juicy talk coming up here. I'll have my mom write that so you guys can get the Chelsie you've been waiting patiently for. Let me know how I am doing; thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Howdy, y'all! It's cfjj, and I'm back in the saddle! I am extremely, extremely, truly very sorry about the (nearly two months?) of inactivity. It wasn't lack of motivation to finish the story, or even writer's block. I've just been tremendously busy. In fact, I think my summer has been busier than my school year was. I'm doing cross country (which is every bit as terrible as you think) and I've had many grueling days of band camp. However, I am in for some long car trips ahead so perhaps I will have oodles of time to write! Once again, so very sorry for the delay, but here, as promised, is Chapter 5!**

**Chapter 5: To Be A Vigilante**

Mrs. Hughes was intrigued. Her ranch foreman had never wanted to talk about anything before, and now all of a sudden he seemed to have something serious to talk to her about?

_"My" ranch foreman, _Elsie thought. _My, I'm getting a bit possessive._

After she had overcome her initial curiosity over Mr. Carson's request to speak with her, she began to worry.

_There's no way he could possibly... How could he have known? Did he see me? What am I going to tell him?_

Mr. Carson headed into the barn and led Elsie up the ladder and into the hayloft. Elsie couldn't help but remember the thrill she had felt the last time she had been up there with him.

As soon as the pair had climbed up and situated themselves on bunches of hay opposite each other, Mr. Carson began to speak.

"Now, Elsie..erm, Mrs. Hughes.. I have known you to do many an impulsive and careless thing in the years I've known you, but never have I seen anything as reckless as this! You could have gotten yourself killed! You could have been caught, and we all know what the Dowager Mayor does to-"

"Charles!" Mr. Carson was surprised by her abrupt use of his first name. He shook himself from his ramble and looked up to meet Elsie's eyes.

"What in God's name are you talking about?" she questioned angrily.

Charles had thought her better than this. "Mrs. Hughes, did you really think I wouldn't see you?"

Mrs. Hughes smiled playfully. "I didn't know you kept me under such a watchful eye."

Mr. Carson cracked a small smile and replied, "By George, I need to keep a closer eye on you than on the ranch hands at the county fair!"

They both had to laugh at this, but then Mr. Carson resumed his serious demeanor.

"I wanted you to know that I picked up the pieces and perfected your flawed plan." He continued before she could interrupt, "Your plan had shortcomings, and while I respected what you wanted to do, I knew that you wouldn't think it through fully."

Mrs. Hughes was annoyed. The gall! "Oh, is that so, Mr. Carson? Please do tell of these fatal shortcomings in my plan."

Mr. Carson began happily. "First of all, I saw you the other day in the general store. Of course, that in itself is not unusual, and at first I thought nothing of it. But I began to suspect something when you emerged from the store with ammunition for a firearm. I've never known you to wield a weapon; after all, why would a housekeeper have need of a gun? So I said to myself, 'Charles, she's finally gone off the deep end!' But I am a cautious person, Mrs. Hughes, especially when it involves the well-being of someone I care about. My mind worked faster than it ever had, and when I saw Mr. Pegg's Wanted poster, everything made sense. I know you, Mrs. Hughes, and I knew what you were planning. And noble as your cause was, you didn't clean up after yourself nearly well enough. It's a good thing that I was there to do it for you. For instance, did you ever think of what would happen once the investigation into the mystery shooter was initiated? They would ask around the town. And where's the only place that you can acquire bullets in town? The general store, of course. Consequently, the sheriff would interrogate Mrs. Crawley about who had been buying ammunition lately, and you would be found out in an instant. Thankfully, I thought of all this. The day before your little stunt, I headed over to the general store and dropped of some mail for Mrs. Crawley." Here he paused.

"And what did that mail say?" Elsie prompted warily.

"It was a letter from her friend Dr. Clarkson in New York. It asked her for her help in nursing patients back to health at his new hospital. Poor Mrs. Crawley couldn't resist the thought that she might be helpful elsewhere, so she packed up and left. Temporarily, mind you, but long enough for this business to blow over."

Mrs. Hughes was astounded. He was right: she never had thought of what would happen after she had saved Pegg. But _he_ had! She couldn't help repeating his words in her head: _...when it involves the well-being of someone I care about... someone I care about.. _

Mr. Carson's voice snapped her out of her reverie.

"Mrs. Hughes! I revert back to my earlier statement: you could have gotten yourself killed!"

Charles tried desperately to keep the worry out of his tone, but he couldn't. He didn't know what he would do if anything happened to her.

Mrs. Hughes wasn't paying attention.

"Even if they _had_ known I'd bought ammunition, how could possibly trace the bullet to me?" she wondered aloud.

"Pardon?" Charles snapped.

"The ammunition. There are so many different kinds of bullets in the store, and so many people in the town own guns. I can't be the only person who's bought ammunition recently!"

Mr. Carson smiled. "I thought of this, as well. They couldn't possibly have known what kind of ammunition the shooter used, unless..."

Mrs. Hughes was catching on.

"...unless they found the bullet lodged across the way from where I shot it," she finished, as he pulled the shell from his pocket and held it up for her to see.

"Exactly. So, when I saw you leave the square to do the deed, I climbed up to the roof of the Grantham Arms and then retrieved the casing after you'd fired it. It was lodged in a chamber pot in one of the upper rooms. Nonetheless..." Charles said grumpily.

Mrs. Hughes was once again at a loss for words.

"I-I... How? You thought of all of this... I'm greatly in your debt. If not for you, Mr. Carson, I would have been found out in an instant. I-I don't know how to thank you..." she stammered.

"No need," he shook his head. "I was only helping a friend."

With that, they both fell into silence for a moment before Charles spoke again.

"I did have one more question…" he said carefully.

Mrs. Hughes sighed and smiled. "What else did I miss?"

"Oh, no, nothing, erm... But I was wondering... How did you get to be such a crack shot? There's many a cowboy in the West that couldn't hit that rope like you did."

Mrs. Hughes beamed. "That, my friend, is a story for another time."

**A/N: Well, there it is. This took forever to write. I wanted to put a lot of thought into the dialogue exchanged in this chapter. Thanks to anyone who reads this, and please drop me a review to let me know how you liked it!**

_**M/N: (Mother's Note) The hints of Chelsie in this chapter all came from chelsie fan jr., jr. Usually she asks me to write the smoochier parts, but she did this all on her own. A burgeoning shipper, methinks!**_


	6. Chapter 6

**BUTCH CARSON AND THE SUNDANCE HOUSEKEEPER**

**A/N: First of all, thanks to you all for sticking with this story thus far, even after that long break we had in the middle there. I want to try and update as much as possible in days to come, because I will be away on vacation for a week or so. Hopefully, we can get in some exciting parts between here and there! - cfjj**

**Chapter 6: The Shootout**

Sheriff Gillingham looked out the window at the dusty road below. He and Deputy Green had been called to a meeting with the Dowager Mayor to discuss the recent episode of vigilante justice. The Mayor cleared her throat.

"Sit down, please, Sheriff. I didn't put these chairs in my office so that people could stand and look out windows," she snapped, annoyed. "Now, we all know that yesterday's episode was unacceptable. I will not allow my town's disciplinary status to drop any further than it already has with you two bozos in charge," she plowed on before either man could interrupt. "It's a good thing you have me, or we'd be living in the epicenter of all crime in the West. Now, the question is, what do we do about this mystery shooter?"

Green hesitated. "If I may, Ms. Mayor, I think that before we consider the question of what to do about them, we must first find a way to identify the shooter."

"Yes, of course, but how?" Gillingham wondered. "We haven't found a bullet; we haven't found a gun; we have no leads whatsoever! Whoever that vigilante was, he was very careful at covering his tracks."

All three sat in silence, no new ideas occurring to any in attendance.

"Well, I guess we will have to begin interrogations of every townsperson!" the Dowager exclaimed, exasperated. "And I mean every single one, Mr. Gillingham. Don't think your past shortcomings have gone unnoticed."

Gillingham was about to protest, but then he thought to himself, _Maybe if I do this right, the Mayor will speak well of me to Mary_. With that thought, he assured the Dowager of his willingness to get the job done right.

"Yes of course, Ms. Mayor. Consider it done."

The Dowager raised an eyebrow. "It had better be done well, Sheriff, because if it is not, you will have to answer to me. And my stockades are always open."

oOo

As Mr. Bates walked down Ripon Street on his break, he saw something that caught his attention. He walked over to the mail post board to take a closer look. It was a "Wanted" poster, and an old one at that. It was yellowing and burnt at the edges, but he thought he recognized the person portrayed in the picture. All of a sudden, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye that made his stomach churn. It was that dreadful Deputy Green, who was walking out of the town hall alongside Sheriff Gillingham. Bates had no quarrel with the Sheriff; he thought him nice enough, even though he was a bit of a simpleton. It was his deputy whom Bates despised.

Green said something to the sheriff, and then began to walk over to the bank, where some ladies from the ranch were standing gossiping. One of these women, Bates realized with a start, was Anna. His blood began to boil at the thought of Green coming anywhere near her. However, he held back for a minute to see what would happen. He was close enough to hear their conversation, but far away enough not to arouse suspicion.

"Why, hello, Anna! Fancy seeing you here! I didn't realize it was payday," Green teased.

"Oh, no, Deputy, I'm not here on my own errands. I was picking up my lady's monthly dress allowance. She wants to head out to the specialty seamstress later on," Anna replied.

Green smiled. "Ah, will you be going with her, then?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I will. Any lady needs her maid along on a visit to the seamstress - for fashion advice and the like. What's it to you if I go or not?" Anna asked him.

"I was just wondering if you might like to come over to my place instead. It's not as luxurious as the ranch, of course, but you'd be surprised. The Dowager is kind to those in her favor," Green mused with a sly smile.

Anna frowned. "Oh, no, I couldn't possibly... Lady Mary and the girls need me. I'd love to, truly, but I'm busy..."

Green cut her off. "Oh, surely you could get away for a while! Who would deny a chance to spend time with me?" He gestured towards himself and stepped closer. Anna was worried, and she was about to say something when a shadow fell across the deputy's face.

Bates was pleased to see that he stood a good three inches taller than Deputy Green.

"Excuse me, Deputy. Do we have a problem here?" Bates said. Anna shot him a grateful smile.

"No, Mr. Bates, not at all. I was just asking Anna here if she would like to spend a day with me in my spacious accommodations," Green said. He stressed the word 'spacious' and emphasized the fact that his salary was considerable. Bates's eyes flared, and he started to lose his temper.

"And I believe the lady said she's busy, Deputy," Bates growled in a low, threatening town.

All of a sudden, Green drew his .45 pistol and swung it around to aim at Bates. Anna screamed, and all the women outside the bank scattered.

"Are you sure you want to cross me, Mr. Bates?" Green raised an eyebrow.

Instead of answering, Bates pulled out a pistol of his own. He backed up until he was about 20 feet away from Green, and the men faced each other, each fixing the other with a hard stare.

Sheriff Gillingham finally caught on to what was happening and began to run over, screaming for the men to stop. But Green brought him to a halt, holding up his hand.

"Stand back, Tony. I can handle this," Green said calmly, although there was an edge to his voice, as if he was worried about Bates' capabilities with a gun.

Bates stood calmly opposite the deputy. On his face was a stare that would stop even the Dowager dead in her tracks. He looked cool and collected, as if this wasn't the first time he'd been in a shootout. The women and the Sheriff stood by, wondering who would make the first move.

All of a sudden, Green drew his pistol and held it up to shoot Bates. But Bates was much quicker, and he pulled his own pistol, firing of several rounds and hitting Green in his right arm. Green's face turned white as a sheet. He dropped his gun and began gasping in pain. Sheriff Gillingham ran over to him and helped him up. He fixed Bates with an angry stare.

"YOU!" He screamed, enraged. Before anyone could comprehend what was happening, Gillingham drew his gun and fired with it aimed right at Bate's chest. It would have killed him, if Anna hadn't run into Gillingham, knocking him over at the last second. The bullet missed Bates's heart, but a splotch of deep red began to blossom on his lower left leg.

Anna ran over to him, crying. He waved off her efforts to help, and slowly began to stand on his own. He manage to rise, but was unsteady and needed her support to remain upright. With his arm around Anna for balance, Bates stood and looked at Green and Gillingham, who were both sprawled in the street.

"Don't you ever come near her again," he threatened, and hobbled away.

**A/N: Well, that was a long chapter. Hopefully, it met expectations and was as exciting as promised. In case I forgot to mention, Bates and Anna aren't married yet in this fic. They merely work alongside each other, but something more is beginning to form. So, this is the story of how Bates got his limp in the Western world! :) The next installment should be up soon; please let me know what you think of this one!**


	7. Chapter 7

**BUTCH CARSON AND THE SUNDANCE HOUSEKEEPER**

**A/N: So, here is the next update as promised. I had a feeling before that, even with the shootout, the story just wasn't Western enough. That being said, I decided to give you guys a glimpse of Chuck Wagon Patmore, and some good ol' fashioned story-telling around the campfire. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! :)**

**Chapter 7: Stories Around The Campfire**

Daisy stirred the stew vigorously, threw in some spices, and set it on the back of the wagon. She heard laughter coming from not far away. Ivy's laughter. _Just my luck_, Daisy thought. _She gets to sit around and chat with the ranch hands while Mrs. Patmore makes me do all the hard work._ Daisy had worked with Mrs. Patmore as the old woman's assistant cook since she was very young. At least, that was her official title. The two were old friends, as well.

Just recently, though, Chuck Wagon Patmore had gained a new member. Ivy was a young and inexperienced cook whom they had picked up in a town on their regular route. She was in a bad spot, working in a kitchen for a failing saloon, and Mrs. Patmore befriended her and brought her to the Wagon to put her to work.

Now, Ivy was supposed to be helping Daisy out, but instead she was leaning on the wagon, chatting with some ranch hands from the Downton Ranch. Daisy was about to go over and yell at Ivy for being so irresponsible, but she stopped short when she saw a certain redheaded ranch hand approaching Ivy.

"There you are!" Alfred said. "Ol' Beryl will work you two to death if she doesn't give you a break once in a while."

"That's Mrs. Patmore to you!" Ivy admonished. She was still impressionable and wanted to do everything she could to please her boss.

Alfred came around the wagon often. He had been working as a ranch hand in order to pay off his father's debt to Lord Grantham, but his heart was never in the work. He had always wanted to be a cook, and food was his passion, so he ended up hanging around Chuck Wagon Patmore a lot. He picked up what skills he could from Mrs. Patmore herself, and, more often, from Daisy and Ivy. Daisy had come to like him quite a lot.

Today, Alfred was at the wagon, along with some other ranch hands from Downton, including James and Thomas. They had all come to say hello to the girls...and hopefully get a free taste of Mrs. Patmore's famous jerky.

"Alright, scram! The lot of you! I don't waste my time cooking for beggars like you! My talents are put to better use for those with more refined taste! Shoo! Don't hang around my wagon!" Mrs. Patmore came running towards the group of young men, shooing them away while wiping her hands on her stained apron.

"Aw, c'mon, please, Mrs. Patmore?" Daisy pleaded. "We've been working hard all day, all of us! Couldn't we have a good ol' campfire? Please?"

"That's a great idea! You could tell us all your old stories!" Ivy put in.

Mrs. Patmore cracked a small smile. Her hard resolve disintegrated, and suddenly she was just a sweet old cook who loved to tell stories.

"Oh, all right. I suppose we could have a nice meal for us working-class folk. Alfred, get some firewood from the back and give us a fire!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Alfred said excitedly, and headed around the back of the wagon. Daisy followed to help him. Ivy, Thomas, and James set up the small campfire ring around their makeshift fire pit made from nearby stones they had collected.

oOo

An hour later, Mrs. Patmore, the girls, and the ranch hands were lying under the stars, their bellies full of mutton stew and savory jerky. Everyone was almost content - almost.

"Mrs. Patmore, that was a wonderful meal, but I believe you promised us a story!" James mentioned.

"Indeed I did, Jimmy! Alright, I suppose I could tell one story. What would you young 'uns want to hear about on this fine evening?" The cook said softly.

Ivy knew what she wanted to hear.

"Tell us about Clara Burns!"

All the young men and women nodded their heads in agreement.

"Yea, tell us about Buckin' Burns!" Thomas nodded in excitement. Mrs. Patmore smiled. This story was one of her favorites.

The campfire had died down quite a bit now, and the last embers made the cook's face glow as she began to tell the story of Buckin' Clara Burns.

"Young Clara was just an ordinary girl. She grew up in Grayll, just a ways down the road from here. As soon as Clara was old enough to hold a rifle, her daddy had her out shooting and hunting from dawn til dusk! Then, one sad day, her poor ol' daddy passed away. This left Clara's mother in an awful bad spot, trying to care for Clara and her sister. Food was scarce without someone who could hunt. But this was no problem for the Burns women! Every morning, Clara would pick up her daddy's ol' huntin' rifle, and she would go out into the woods to hunt. She came back with more fresh meat than her family could possibly eat.

"Now, folks in the town were starting to recognize Clara as one of the surest shots in the county. One day, a right old terror of a man came along to Grayll. He was called Jumpin' Joey, and he challenged the townspeople. 'Gimme your best shot in the county, and I'll shoot 'is hat off!'

"The people all laughed. Somebody ran to go get Clara. When Clara was pushed in front of Joey, he laughed. He laughed and laughed. 'This little gal is the best shot you got? Alright then, sweetheart, step right up! What d'ya wanna do?' He laughed again.

"But little Clara stood tall and said, 'Let's shoot cards, mister!'

"So five playing cards were placed in nooks along a stretch of wooding fencing. They were facing the people, but to Joey, they were nothing more than a sliver. He raised his gun, took aim, and fired of a couple rounds. The people gasped. He had shot one card right in half, and shot the top off of two others, leaving only two cards untouched. He threw a menacing smile at Clara. 'Let's see ya do better'n that, sweetheart!' He winked and took a seat on a nearby fencepost.

"Clara, not intimidated whatsoever by the man, picked up her gun. She told the boys to set up two sets of cards, five on the fence in front of her, and five on the fence behind her. Joey stood up, perplexed. Before he could say anything, Clara fired off a series of shots at the cards in front of her, splitting every last one clean in half. Then, she held up a mirror in front of her, spun the rifle around over her shoulder, and shot all the cards behind her with spot-on precision. She winked at Joey, and walked off back home."

Mrs. Patmore stopped there.

"That's it for tonight, I think. I'm plum tuckered out," she sighed.

Several shouts of protest arose.

"No, that's not all! That's not the whole story!" Jimmy complained.

"I heard that she became part of a Wild West show, and people would throw coins in the air every time she passed. She'd shoot all of 'em before they hit the ground!" Ivy said.

Daisy nodded her head. "That's right, and the coins that she shot tripled in value! Men'd get rich off her all the time!"

Mrs. Patmore sighed, exasperated.

"We'll save those stories for another night. Now, off to bed, all of you! You've all got a busy day ahead!"

They put their heads down and fell asleep listening to the crickets under the stars.

**A/N: Well, that's that. Hopefully, this scene will get everybody feeling more Western. Thanks for your kind reviews and your encouragement, it helps me out a lot! Let me know how you liked this one. :) -cfjj**


End file.
